Saturday, January 31, 2009

he buried her in the sky

She's ripped herself in half.
Again.
The furniture weight above her holding her
to the floor and seeing the worlds through
the cheesecloth of the limping tea bags.

She has lost respect for her skin; it
has detached from her organs and those
that make us bleed.

She is bleeding now from all the pores.
Its dripping out slowly through the
cracked skin flaking in the nail beds.

Raspberry leaves in their hot water. And
she will drink all of him in her cup and
saucer; they talk without sound and his
corpsy flesh cocooning her heart and lungs is
sweating out the generosity.

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